Beginning again. It’s time.
These past few weeks have been characterized by a marked return to normalcy: nausea abated, big goals stated, and a headlong rush into crazy mandated (then faded.) Such is the theme of my life (aside from the nausea…usually fatigue or despair leaves me jaded.)
A goal recommitted is to be in the best shape of my life or ever, but now it’s not just for me: it’s for bean too. My health determines this little baby’s. So I must get that health back on track. First, let’s talk about nutrition: gluten makes my head spin and my tummy twist, but I’ve been lax in my vigilance against consumption. Some pizza bread has snuck past these lips and cupcakes of the all-purpose flour variety have settled in my stomach. Sugar, too, has it’s dirty way with me. Juices, “Naked” smoothies, honey, fruit butters: they make up the bulk of my intake. With meat and vegetables still spurring conferences between my face and the toilet, sugars seem my savior. I do delight in milk and soft cheeses and raw fish but those last two are generally nixed for pregnant women. So I pretend I am in France or Japan where they’re perfectly acceptable. But then where is my croissant and my soba?
Now to address something over which I have control: my exercise. No, exercising intelligently will not hurt this little bean. In fact, it may very well the baby intelligent! In addition to increasing his or her VO2 max. Read more here before you become angry with me. The problem is, I’ve become very discouraged in the gym. I set weights according to my previous maxes and fail at 70%. I finish workouts five, sometimes ten minutes past everyone else. I still can’t run, and my rowing is dismal. My transitions from movement to movement are slower than a sloth.
There is good reason for some of these things: I was directed not to pass my lactic acid threshold, thus those long breathing breaks. I won’t be running until January or maybe mid-December due to my weak-sauce tendon. Clearly the past six months of irregular attendance and injury modifications have not been spent lethargically growing massive amounts of muscle so why would my maxes be the same?
What plagues me now is a slight embarrassment and way too much self-pity. I just have to get out there. I have to start from the beginning. I have to smash down my stupid pride and get back to being excellent by building excellence. What’s the first step? Showing up. I can figure the rest out from there.
Bean is 17 weeks now. Happy weekday little one :) This tiny miracle has changed my life, has changed me. I must ensure that change is for the better;
what is great in a man is not that he is a bridge and not an end.